


Denial:  Oblivious

by thejeeperswife



Series: The Stages of Grief and Love [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Dragons, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Five Stages of Grief, Grey Wardens, Grief/Mourning, Important Mission, Kings & Queens, Loneliness, Love at First Sight, Old Friends, Separation Anxiety, Separations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 13:06:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12211893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejeeperswife/pseuds/thejeeperswife
Summary: King Alistair meets his old friends Leliana, Cullen Rutherford, and Evie Trevelyan again after reclaiming Redcliffe Castle for Arl Teagan.  Following a nice dinner, the king finds himself depressed and missing his departed queen, Astrid, who has left his side on an important quest.  To fill the void, he turns to their shared journals, recordings of past memories."The Stages of Grief and Love" is supplemental short stories for my "The Fire In Your Eyes" series.  Seeing his childhood friends falling in love reminds Alistair of his beloved queen.Each entry will reflection a Grief and/or Love Stage, since Astrid and Alistair suffered great losses during the Fifth Blight, but fell in love at the same time.This takes place between Chapter 21 and Chapter 22 of "A Safe Haven."





	Denial:  Oblivious

**Author's Note:**

> "The Stages of Grief and Love" is supplemental short stories for the "The Fire In Your Eyes" series. Seeing his childhood friends are falling in love, it reminds Alistair of his departed queen. To fill the void, he reads from their shared journals and reflects on the past.
> 
> Each entry will reflection a Grief and/or Love Stage, since Astrid and Alistair suffered great losses during the Fifth Blight, but fell in love at the same time.
> 
> This takes place between Chapter 21 and Chapter 22 of "A Safe Haven."
> 
> Song: "Oblivious" Kalafina  
> (Will be added to "Andraste's Fire, Inquisitor's Light" playlist on Spotify)

“I don’t remember Evie having green eyes.” Alistair admitted, glancing up at the sitting room’s ceiling.  He scratched his Adam ’s apple before pulling his blue satin doublet’s collar few times.  “Actually, none of the Trevelyans have green eyes.  I mean, Patricia has blue, but I figured that was from her mother.  The bann has hazel, so I guess you can get green from that.  Lady Gwen’s and Esme’s were brown, but I cannot be sure.  It was a long time ago, so who knows.  Maybe I remember wrong.  I have done that _so_ many-”

“-Alistair, you’re rambling.”  Cullen stated, studying the marble and obsidian chess board closely.  His chin rested on his hand supported by his bent elbow on his knee.  The fireplace to their left colored his wavy blond hair orange.  “The mark dyed her eyes bright green.”

Alistair blinked a few times.  “The mark?”

Cullen grimaced, finally deciding to sacrifice a pawn to protect his bishop.  He leaned back, resting his elbows on the chair’s arms and folding his hands over his lap.  “The gash on her left hand.  What everyone claims is the boon from Andraste.”

Alistair understood the connection, scanning the board carefully before snatching the pawn with his knight.  He did not want to expose a piece by taking the available move.  Knowing Cullen, he probably was provoking the king to make an obvious mistake.  “Do you think it is from Andraste?”

Cullen sighed, glancing around the sitting room.  Arl Teagan, Leliana, and Cassandra retired for the night not long after Evie excused herself.  Just like when they were templar recruits, the king and the former commander were the only people awake.  “Leliana and our ambassador, Lady Josephine Montilyet, distributed the tale far and wide to give the Inquisition an advantage, especially after the Chantry’s denouncement.  Cassandra believes it whole-heartedly, claiming it was divine providence.  Eve herself doesn’t know what to think.  When we told her a glowing woman stood behind her when she fell out of the rift, she nearly fell over in shock.  As to what I think…Well, the Maker can be cruel and turned away from His children, but Eve is exactly the person Thedas needs right now.  With each expedition, people take notice of her determination and leadership.  Someone is finally act against the coming darkness.”

Alistair smirked, his left eyebrow perked amused.  “Eve, huh?”  He watched as his old friend sank a little in his chair and red colored his pale face.  He could not contain his chuckles.  “You stutter when you talk to her?”  Again, Cullen declined a little more, glancing away from his chess opponent.  His scarred lip twitched a few times.  Alistair’s chuckles grew louder.  “You’re just as bad as when everyone found you puking in the privy.  You know, when you discovered you had a secret admirer.  You didn’t leave until sunset because you refused to look the poor girl in the eye.  It was one of the few times the recruits didn’t tease my innocent, unblemished mind.”

“That’s enough, Alistair…”  Cullen growled under his husky Fereldan breathe.  He decided to pick up his obsidian queen and slide it across the board.  He smugly placed Alistair’s king in check.  “How many bad puns and stupid jokes did you tell Astrid before finally you kissed her?”

Alistair’s laughter simmered down just hearing his wife’s name.  A great ache grew inside his chest for his beloved queen that nearly doubled him over in pain.  “She laughed at every one, thank you very much.  Although, I will admit every sentence flying out of my mouth was gibberish.  She decoded it quite easily.”

Cullen grinned, watching Alistair castle his king behind the row of pawns.  “How well do you and Evie know one another?”

“Well, she was the only one willing to disobey Isolde to play with me.”  Alistair remarked, finding the vaulted ceiling enchanting again.  He scratched his three day stumble, while reminiscing about his youth.  “Though her sister and I were closer in age, Patricia always treated me like a mangy dog.  That just encouraged Evie more to venture into the stables when her family visited.  Because of her, Eamon let me do more activities like fishing, hiking, and hunting, partly relieved to spend more time with me without his Orlesian wife scowling constantly.  Her father did not mind me.  I expect he knew who I was by process of elimination, but never said anything.  He observed and made connections very few people could discern.  The bann watched me closely and analyzed if I will be a benefit or hindrance.  Apparently, I passed his test because he was kind and encouraging.  Evie’s mother did not interact with me much, nor Esme since he was just a babe.  Isolde’s doing no doubt.  Yet, the bann’s wife always had Evie sneak me candy and homemade cookies.  I got the impression Lady Gwen was not of noble birth because she treated everyone equally and was quite knowledgeable about servant tasks and responsibilities.  Not just because she was mistress of the household, but because she performed them sometime in her life.  Those few summers before I was sent to the Chantry were some of the most exciting and memorable experiences before joining the Grey Wardens.”

“It just seems weird.”  Cullen expressed, staring into the fire.  “Eve suffered a great deal in her life…her family doesn’t seem like they care about her.  She constantly mistrusts everyone like she never felt safe.”

Alistair deeply sighed.  “I don’t know what happened after her magic manifested.  I was in Denerim as a recruit by then.  You hadn’t join the templars yet.  I don’t remember how I heard she was a mage, but a part of me somewhat wanted to serve her circle.  Maybe be mentored by Rian?  Nothing against you templars, but thank the Maker Duncan conscripted me.”

Both men began laughing, imagining the silly bastard warrior keeping a straight face, cooped up inside tall stone walls, and judging mages.  The more they laughed, the more Alistair realized he was doing that now as king.  He always had to keep a stolid appearance when hearing requests.  The king rarely left the castle or Denerim now.  Instead of mages, he must be unbiased when speaking to the Landsmeet and ambassadors.  However, he knew could handle being royalty if Astrid stood at his side.  He could do anything just as long as she sat as his equal in council or actively engaged guests during feasts.

The two powerful men continued playing while the king thought back to his lonesomeness and heavy heart.  By now, Alistair knew he would lose the game because Cullen was just that good.  He just wanted to return to his quarters now.  In the morning, he will return to Denerim and resume the same old.  He hated ruling without Astrid, not seeing her bright smile and sparkling silver grey eyes when he walked into a meeting or hosted banquets.  His chance to be a free warrior was already over without even cutting down a single foe.

“Keep Evie safe, Cullen.”  Alistair whispered, watching Cullen checkmate his marble king.  The commander met Alistair’s golden gaze, surprised by his sudden statement.  “And hang on to her with all your might.”

 

* * *

 

Alistair massage his neck, shutting and locking the door to his exquisite guest suite.  It was the same suite he shared with Astrid when they visited Redcliffe during the Blight.  Isolde always scoffed when the merry band of borderline insane fighters returned, specifically at him because he stayed inside the fortress and with his noble love.

" _You want him to stay in the stables?  Well, so will I.  The Landsmeet will enjoy you hosted the future King and Queen of Redcliffe in a hay loft, you Orlesian swine.”_

Astrid could talk anyone out of anything without raising her voice.  It was her presence, tone, and straight face.  People could never read her, always leaning towards caution and acceptance than tempting fate and bring her wrath.  Leliana helped polish her blank features and misdirective responses until even the rogue could not determine what she was thinking.  Alistair could just because he spent the longest time in her company and knew his wife’s movements like he knew how to breathe. 

If the person saw his beloved queen fight, they would never try to challenge her, not knowing her temperance limit, except Isolde.  They feared if her temper rose they would be dead before they could draw a dagger.  His love would never kill someone for such mundane actions.  Astrid devised other ways for adversaries to see reason and her mission, but no one else knew that.  Maker, the Landsmeet ate out of her hand for that very reason.

The pining ache in Alistair’s chest just kept gnawing with each passing moment.  Seeing Evie, Leliana, and Cullen brought the past back so vividly that the queen not being there felt so extremely wrong.  If she had been at the dinner table, Astrid would have been the moderator between the warriors and the other fighting techniques advocates.  She would deescalate that seeker and Evie’s tempers before they realized they were growing angry.  Cullen would have never shuddered when someone mentioned knowing her, thus Kinloch Hold, because Astrid would never allow the conversation to even swing that direction.

“Ugh, Asty.”  Alistair mumbled, leaning against the door.  He covered his depressed face with his left hand and briefly kiss his wedding ring, while his right pulled at the doublet’s drawstrings.  Wearing armor the last few days was extremely comfortable than the constant fine clothing.

" _It makes you look sharp.  Although, I prefer you in nothing.  I think all the noblewomen would agree, if you ever walked out into the grand hall bare as the day you were born…on second thought, I want you just for myself.  Lucky me.”_   Alistair could hear his wife say to him.  He always heard her typical responses in his head.  It made him feel she was right there.

The king felt his queen’s presence still in the room.  He glanced at the vanity, expecting to see her combing her long straight black hair in the streaming moonlight.  The soft glow would bring out its blue and silver hues only visible at night.  Her fingers pulled the doublet open, helping him shed his clothing, one of her favorite activities, with removing his armor being the top.  Removing her garments was his.  Anything that left them nude and in each other’s arms was the most applicable.

Once removing his doublet, Alistair’s undershirt came off over his head, exposing his still highly defined muscles and bite of strawberry chest hair.  A silver Andrastian locket batted against his body and clicked with each step.  He pulled at his boot buckles, snapping them open with little effort until he could kick both items off his feet.  His holed socks slipped off next, yet another reminder of a past life.

Alistair was not tired.  His last few days governed his waking mind.  He meandered to his saddle pack sitting on a table by the long lounge sofa.  He might forgo sleep tonight, the easiest solution.  She wandered his thoughts so much that even the Fade could not give him a wonderful dream to soften his pain.  He flipped the pack lid open and pulled the drawstring.  There was only one thing the man could do.  He dug through his change of small clothes, trousers, and tunic towards the middle of the pack.  He felt the linen fabric first, withdrawing the rectangular bag.

The king wandered around the table and sat on the expensive sofa.  Behind it, the moon shined through a long window, giving him all the light he needed.  It was nights like this he would witness her staring at the circular orb in the sky, even despite the Breach’s swirling dark clouds in the distance.  He opened the linen cloth bag, removing two leather-bound journals:  one dyed blue with a silver embossed moon on the cover and the other dyed red with a yellow sun.  Both contained mirror side views of griffons embossed in the hide.  In the middle of the moon book was a single moonstone with its milky, wispy features.  The sun contained an imperial topaz.  Alistair glanced at his wedding ring, the two same gemstones garnished the thick silverite band.

In the event of his untimely death, Alistair declared these two journals be burned with his body.  Everyone had seen the books, but never knew what they contained sans his personal squire who packed his belongs for trips.  They travelled everywhere with him.  Alistair needed little else in life besides the journals, Duncan’s sword and dagger, and his mother’s Andrastian locket.  The king glanced over his shoulder.  Duncan’s dagger was in its sheath by his golden armor.  The sword always stayed in his rooms in Denerim.  He touched the locket laying against his bare chest, containing Astrid’s portrait.

The Grey Warden placed the sun journal on the table.  The entry he needed at that moment was not in there.  After all, he remembered most of his interactions with Astrid clearly.  Writing the passages reminded him, so he recalled the slightest details even now.  Unlike most married men, he always recalled birthdays and anniversaries.  No, the entry he pined for was in Astrid’s journal. 

Before Astrid left on her quest, she asked Alistair to record his memories in two journals, while she did the same.  Technically, he only wrote his experiences in one sun journal, while Wynne’s tranquil friend copied it for the king and queen.  Alistair took the copied version of his journal, while receiving Astrid’s original writing.  That way they could read the other’s stories in their hand.

The journals were his queen’s idea.  _“Without them, I might die not seeing you every day_. _”_   Since that sorrowful day five years ago, all Alistair had were her writings to keep him company.  It did not take him long to compare the two journals, seeing both his and hers views of the same events.  The overlapping entries contained corresponding page numbers for reference where he spent the years noting their similar reactions or misunderstandings.  One day, he will show Astrid what he misinterpreted from his perceptive.  It was enough material to have endless conversations for four lifetimes. 

Alistair unwound the leather string holding the book closed and opened the moon journal. The vellum puffed upwards with all the folded drawings and items Astrid gave him over the years.   His queen was a fine artist, preferring coal over other crafts.  Yet, she did transfer to paints once she returned from Amaranthine after the Thaw.  Most of the paintings throughout the castle were hers.  Before she left, the king requested a portrait of her for every room so he could always look at her face no matter where he was.  If he had an extra, Alistair would place one in this suite for his arling visits.  Visiting nobles and delegates constantly said having so many reminders would never allow him move on.  They truly believed she was not coming back.

Alistair did not raise his voice often, avoiding sounding like his father as much as possible.  However, when someone suggested Astrid was dead or never returning, he could not control his actions.  Eamon stopped trying to convince him to remarry after the king broke his nose with his left fist and almost ran him through with his practice sword.  Alistair heard it one too many times and lost control.

They did not know what he knew.

They would not doubt if they just _trusted_ him.  And her.

Before his temper could spiral out of control, Alistair flipped through the journal, reading the entry names and dates.  The one he desired was towards the front under the section “The General.”  During their travels, they dubbed Astrid's mabari the leader of the excursion, primarily to get Morrigan to stop badgering Alistair that he avoided leading.  It also forced the apostate to not yell at the beast when he torn up her small clothes.  Sten actually approved of MacBarkson’s appointment because the Qunari and hound respected one another. 

The king's golden eyes noted the entry he stated at dinner when Astrid’s mabari stole his clothes.  That occurred when he and his fellow warden attempted to hide their physical relationship, yet everyone in camp already knew about their nightly--and sometimes daily--tumbles.  Astrid was not particularly quiet apparently.  Even after being married and secluded in their own wing in the castle, guests grumbled about hearing them the next day.  Oops, but not sorry.

Finally, the warden found the entry he desired.  Reorganizing the pillows on the sofa, Alistair laid down and bent his knees to begin reading.  Astrid’s elegant cursive shimmered in the moonlight, immediately drawing him in and filling his soul.

_“Oblivious”_

_MacBarkson remembered you first.  It took me another month after the Joining and the defeat at Ostagar to even put the pieces together.  I wish I could say it was the grief blocking my memory, but I cannot.  The event barely entailed my family, so it was not my denial or shock blocking remembering you.  It was not time either.  Eight years had passed since that night in Redcliffe, but I never forgot about that little boy protecting my faithful companion.  After all, MacBarkson never behaved for anyone but me.  Maker, he loathed any man in my presence until I stated said person was permitted.  I guess after being accosted by so many suitor noble sons and knights numerous times, the General equated men as the enemy._

_But not you._

_I stared dumbfounded on the northern platform stairs in Ostagar.  I watched as you sassed that mage insulted that the revered mother sent a nearly-inducted templar to deliver a message.  MacBarkson, who was supposed to be with Duncan, whooshed by me like I was not even there.  The mage passed by me, muttering obscene curses under his breath.  Then, I heard MacBarkson bark constantly.  You were gone.  I freaked.  Maker’s breath, my mabari killed that knight!  I raced forward and nearly fell over in disbelief!_

_You two looked so silly rolling back and forth on the stone slabs.  MacBarkson kept licking your face like a loony animal, while you giggled and tried to lean forward.  The General definitely gained a few dozen pounds since you last encountered the beast, but I did not know that at the time.  I was more frightened he was going to attack you after his multiple licks and barks.  However, he did not.  You nudged him away, causing the mutt to roll on his back, waiting for a tummy rub._

_I thought ‘He never lets strangers rub his tummy!  He has officially lost his mind!’  I called him several times, but he ignored me.  His own mistress!  Who was this man that could turn my warrior hound into an Orlesian poodle?!_

_After MacBarkson received his fill of tummy rubs, he left you long enough to let you reach your feet.  I apologized several times, trying to bring my mabari back to my side, but he just sat and leaned against your greaves, panting.  You made some remark that you have a way with dogs, like you were raised by them until one day the pack kicked you out.  I did not know what to think._

_The rest of the conversation is a blur.  My mind still rolled, trying to understand how this man bewitched my hound.  We spoke about the mage, how the Blight could bring everyone together, and your past Chantry training.  I stated you must be Alistair, and that Duncan wanted me to find you.  You forgot my name.  I remembered yours, but the young junior Grey Warden could not remember a single young lady recruit’s name.  Tsk! Tsk!  You even remarked you never seen too many women wardens.  I had to punish you for forgetting my name, stating we were too smart for you._

_I was going through the motions, you know.  I leaned between the extremes.  On one side, I wanted to dive into the Wilds and find my brother, then hack Howe’s head off.  On the other, I wanted the darkspawn to eat me whole.  I was just in so much shock, disbelief that all I had ever known was burned to ground and dead.  I trusted no one.  The family who called us nearly kin, who I almost married into, destroyed my home and murdered my family.  Yet, my hound, my childhood friend trusted_ you _, a complete stranger to my knowledge at the time.  I believe now MacBarkson found you, disobeyed me, and stayed by you because he was telling you please help his master._

_After Ostagar, we were the same.  You felt that same grief I experienced when Duncan and the other Grey Wardens perished.  I know you never felt connected to your brother, but I believed you wept for him too.  Ferelden depended on us to end the Blight, but neither one of us had the strength to take a step.  Morrigan taunted you for your melancholy, but she should have done the same to me.  I guess my ‘noble’ face fooled her enough even before I perfected it.  Somehow, between the two of us, we rose our heads to move forward…and discovered the greatest love that books still attempt to copy._

_It took me until after we arrived in Redcliffe Village to realize I knew you before this damning Void.  You confessed you were raised by Arl Eamon, the royal bastard of King Maric.  You admitted more while we were there, between killing undead and retaking the castle.  You discussed how you were treated, being sent away to the Chantry after Isolde could not stand ‘the bastard’ anymore, and most of all, living by the kennels in the stables.  My mind flashed the memory of a cackling young boy haloed by candlelight with MacBarkson licking him constantly.  I already held feelings for you by then, but denied them for self-preservation purposes and our duty to stop the Blight.  Yet suddenly, I allowed myself to embrace those emotions, breaking the bonds holding my crushed heart and allowed sunlight to shine again._

_I will never forget that night,_ Sunny _…_

 

* * *

 

“But he is just a baby, Papa!”  Astrid whined, refusing to let go of her mabari puppy.

The wind howled through the castle’s square courtyard.  Chunks of snow fell from the night sky, piling on the cobblestones quickly.  The fresh few places Teryn Bryce Cousland had walked to fetch his ten year old daughter were already filling with snow.  In a matter of a few moments, there was no clear path back to the main double doors without creating new tracks through the piling precipitation.

Elven servants raced from inside Redcliffe Castle to the broken carriage in the square.  It took a team of four horses on top of the two hitched Ferelden Forders to drag the wagon from the slumbering village.  The back axle was broken in two, only now secured by a nailed plank of wood and some random rope. 

Travel had been unbearable already on the Imperial Highway.  The snowstorm arrived almost a half a day ahead or the Cousland Family would have remained in Lothering before venturing into the Hinterlands.  The noble family believed arriving in Redcliffe Village would allow them to rest until morning when they could board their merchant ship for Highever, but the inn was not vacant.  All wandering travelers and merchants claimed the rooms before they arrived in the dead of night.

Thank the Maker for Arl Eamon.  A knight dinning at the inn overheard Bryce’s folly and offered to return to his arl to see if they may stay at the castle.  Once a group of Arl Eamon’s men arrived, the carriage driver attempted to move the snowbound wagon and broke the axle.  If it was not for his wife and young daughter, Bryce knew he and his eighteen year old son, Fergus, could unhitch the horses and ride them to the castle.

Astrid was tall for her age, nearly towering over the young squires attending lessons with Aldous.  However, the snow reached her knees and gathered her wool dress and fur coat upwards.  The melting snow absorbing her heat pooled at her feet.  She shook violently, while her teeth chattered.  Snow wetted her coal black hair, almost certainly guaranteeing she would develop a cold if she did not warm by a fire very soon.

Yet, the young stubborn girl was more concerned about her six-week old birthday present.  The mabari puppy in her grasp was weaned from his mother just a few days before Astrid’s tenth birthday.  It was not just a mabari puppy, but the offspring of King Maric’s warhounds.  Upon hearing Astrid was born on Satinalia, Crown Prince Cailan convinced his father to gift a puppy to the teryn’s daughter to mark the occasion as well as Feastday.  The Couslands decided to spend the holiday and month in Denerim, attending the grand cleric’s mass and other festive activities.  They underestimated southern Ferelden’s winter, as they were more accustomed to the coast’s mild season.  If it was not for a business meeting in the Arling of South Reach, they would have sailed home directly from the capital.

“Pup, the arl has been most gracious to allow us to stay in the castle tonight.”  Bryce explained to his freezing daughter.  “However, you cannot bring your puppy.  There are kennels where he will be safe and warm.”

“What if he thinks I left him in the cold!?” Astrid whimpered at the same time as the puppy hang from her tiny arms.  “What if he does not remember me?!”

“That is very unlikely, Pup.”  Bryce remarked, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “The hound crawled all over his brothers and sisters just to lick you.  He will be warm with the other hounds.  The arl promised he will be well until we leave.”

“I want to stay with him!”  The young child hollered, her squeaky voice echoing off the castle’s high walls.

“Pup, please!”  Her father scowled.  “You cannot and will not stay in the kennels.  You are a Cousland, one of the oldest families in Ferelden.  You are now ten years old and must start acting like a lady.  Do you remember _why_ we gave you this hound?”

Astrid sank a little, bending her shoulders over.  “Because I want to be a warrior…and I cannot without first being a lady.  But you and Mama said I cannot train with a sword and shield!”

“But we agreed you may with a bow, remember?”

Astrid grimaced, sighing.  “Yes, Papa.”

“Does a lady stand out in the middle of a snowstorm when she is a guest at a nobleman’s estate?”

“No, Papa.”

“Then, please hand me the puppy and go inside.”

Astrid took a deep breath, turning the whining puppy towards her face.  “Do not worry.  I will see you tomorrow.”  The puppy licked her face, and she kissed its nose.  She handled the hound to her father.

“Thank you.  Now, go inside with your mother and brother, while I give the dog to one of kennel men.”  Bryce watched as his spirited daughter stomped through the high snow towards the double reinforced doors.  He held the hound close inside his fur lined winter coat.  “Maker and Andraste!  I need to tell Eleanor to educate that girl on stilling her face and keeping a noble tone…”

_I remember I could not sleep that night, even in my own room in the castle.  I kept hearing the wind’s howl outside and snow blowing everywhere.  I could only think about MacBarkson cold and alone without his mistress.  After tossing and turning for at least two bells, I hopped out of bed and put on a pair of boots.  I grabbed my winter coat and snuck out of the castle._

Astrid remembered seeing the horses being led around the side of the castle from the square.  She estimated if this castle was like Highever, it meant the servant’s entrance would lead straight to the stables.  Finding her away through the main hall to the kitchens was easy.  The random roaming knight or soldier never imagined a small girl would be sneaking out.  Even with her boots untied and dragging the floor, no one noticed her weaving around tables and behind open doors.

The gamble was rewarding.  The servant entrance faced a large barn where Astrid heard horses neighing and mabari barking.  The castle overhangs blocked much of the snow, allowing her to walk through it with little problem.  The wind was not as intense either, but it had pulled a barn side door open. 

Astrid followed the open barn door inside, glancing around to gain her bearings.  She entered the stable side of the barn at the far end of the kennel.  The wide path was lined with horse stalls.  Many of the Fereldan Forders laid down because of the storm, only noticeable through the wood slates.

_Bark!  Bark!_

“Hey!  Stop that!”

Astrid froze, scanning the dimly lit barn for the barks and voice.  It was high pitched and sounded like the person was laughing.  The little girl walked slowly, trying to determine the location.  With a few more barks, dog nails scratched the wood above her head.  She glanced up, seeing light through the loft floor.  A small form ran back and forth before pouncing onto a surface on the far side.  The voice continued to laugh and giggle.

Astrid recognized those barks and licking sounds.  Her puppy was not in kennel, but in the rafters with someone.  That person brought them into their loft, most likely a stable boy.  She bit the inside of her mouth, throwing the open barn door a look.  Not even the elven servants in her home were forced to sleep in a barn during a snowstorm.  This ‘noble’ family kept their stable boy out here?!

“And I was supposed to be a lady?!” Astrid huffed to herself, crossing her arms over her open coat and linen nightgown.  A part of her wanted to race inside the castle and give this arl a piece of her mind, but hearing her puppy skipping about kept her attentive to her original task. 

In the back corner, Astrid saw the ladder leading to the loft.  She kept following the horse stalls to the corner, glancing up the ladder one last time before started climbing.  Any need for modesty left her mind as her nightgown gapped open beneath her.  Astrid’s argument to her shocked mother and disappointed father was that her mother was near her age when she took down her first Orlesian ship, although Astrid had another five years for it to be true.  She used that fact for almost everything, from carrying a dagger to becoming a shieldmaiden.

The young noble girl climbed slowly, hoping to not to startle the stable boy.  She reached the loft edge and slowly turn on the ladder to step inside.  She played in the stable lofts at home with Fergus and the other local children.  However, she was not expecting what she witnessed.

The loft was half filled with straw and hay for the horses.  The other half contained a trunk, an end stand, and a straw bed.  Quilts and wool blankets hung off the bed, batted away by the occupant and the excited mabari puppy.  A single candle sat lit on the end stand, giving the young boy sitting on the bed an angelic halo.  He looked about her age and dressed in a wool sweater, long trousers, and thoroughly worn leather boots.  Sitting on his lap licking his face repeatedly was a small brown mabari puppy with a black nose.

Astrid edged herself down to sit on her knees, watching the majestic scene in the loft.  The boy smiled happily as the puppy gave him lots of attention and love.  She knew the puppy was kissing him because he did the same to her, especially the day he picked her at the royal kennels.

The puppy heard the wood beneath Astrid squeak, twirling his head towards the loft’s opening.  He barked a few times before launching off the boy’s lap.  He scampered over to Astrid, knocking her over with his small body and speed.  Astrid cried happily as her legs flipped up over her head.  The mabari licked her face raw in excitement.

“Ah!”

Astrid pulled herself up, leaning around her puppy to look at the startled young boy sitting on his bed.  He was covering his eyes and shaking his head.  “Hi!”

“I didn’t see anything!”

The girl blinked a few times, then realized when the puppy knocked her over, her nightgown gathered around her waist.  She pulled down the skirting, giggling.  “Sorry!”

“Who are you!?  What are you doing here?!”

Astrid tilted her head a little, watching the blushing boy closely.  His hair was cut very short and it looked like it burned the same color as the nearby candle.  “I came to check on Bob.”

The boy opened his fingers a little to look at her.  “Bob?”

Astrid beamed, lifting her puppy upwards.  The mabari hung from her cupped hands, his tail waging a million times an hour.  “Robert Wallace MacBarkson!”

The boy giggled a few times, finally lowering his hands from his blushing face.  “Oh!  That’s his name!”

“Yup!”  Astrid sang, nodding once.  “He was a gift for my birthday!  He picked me!”

“Happy birthday.”  The boy sang, tilting his head.  “How old are you?”

“Ten!  And my birthday passed during Satinalia, but thank you!”

“I’m ten too!  I turn eleven in a few months.”  The boy pointed to himself.  “Your birthday’s on Feastday!?  You named after the moon?!”

Astrid shook her head no.  “Nope, I am named after my mother’s mother.  But, my papa says my eyes are like Thedas’ moons, silver grey.”

The boy hopped off his bed and approached her closely.  Astrid winced a little as the boy eyed her closely.  “Pretty…I mean, your eyes.  Not you.  I mean, you are pretty, but not like _that_ pretty.  You know what I mean, right?  _Right?_  Anyway, I meant your eyes are pretty like the moons.”  The boy glowed bright red from his declarations.

“Thank you.”  She sang, oblivious to his embarrassment.  MacBarkson jumped off her lap and tackled the boy again with licks.  “You live here?”

The boy tried to pull the puppy away to speak.  “Yup.  I’m only allowed inside for food and to do my chores.  The arlessa says I have to stay out here.”

“Well, that is wrong!”  Astrid huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.  “It is snowing and cold.  I was so worried about Bob that I left the castle to see how he was.  You should be inside warm and safe!”

The boy shrugged.  “I’m used to it.  It is better than getting his lordship in trouble with his wife.  I heard Bob scratching at his kennel door.  All the other hounds were barking and growling at him.  He was not a part of that pack.  He kept whimpering so I brought him here.”

“Thank you…”  Astrid smiled, scratching MacBarkson behind the ears on the boy’s lap.  “Can you watch him until we leave in the morning?  I would feel a lot better knowing he was not alone tonight.”

The boy smiled and nodded.  “Of course!”

“I should go back then.  You need me to bring you something?”  Astrid asked, crawling towards the loft edge.

On cue, the boy’s stomach rumbled loudly.  “Ummm…sorry.  I’m constantly hungry.  I mean, they feed me, but I just keep eating and never get my filling.”  The boy puckered his lips and sank a little.  “C-can you bring me some cheese?  The arlessa gets upset when I take too much.”

“I’ll bring you a whole wheel!  If she says anything, I will say the storm ate it!”

Astrid’s legs hopped through the snow back to the kitchens.  It did not take her long to find the larder.  There was no lock on it, but she understood why the boy might get in trouble taking from the cheeses.  There were many stacks, but arranged by type and origin.  Using her nose, Astrid pinpointed the cheddar since it was the least stinky cheese.  The more smell a cheese has, the more likely it came from Orlais, her father always said.  Luckily, there was easily assessable wheel on a barrel by the door.  It was a smaller than the others and not too heavy.  On her way out, she snagged a loaf of wheat bread.  She closed the larder to hide her theft.  She poured some goat milk into a sealable container she found in a cool barrel near the entrance, while grabbing a cheese knife from a cutlery board.  She would need to warn the boy to return the knife before anyone noticed.

By the time Astrid returned outside, the snowstorm had settled to a dusting with little wind.  The young girl followed her previous footprints back into the stable.  The boy had climbed down the ladder, keeping MacBarkson up in the loft.  He took the cheese from Astrid and beamed.

“Cheddar!  My favorite!”  He called, nearly hugging Astrid before catching himself.  “Y-you should go back in before someone finds you here.”

“Here is a loaf of bread, some goat milk, and a cheese knife.”  Astrid handed her food cache to the relieved boy.  “You cannot have cheese without bread and milk!  You need anything else?”

The boy shook his head no.  “This is better than any Satinalia gift.  When are you leaving tomorrow?”

“After breakfast.  Papa said he wants to catch the tide out of Lake Calenhad.”

“Okay.”  The boy agreed, watching the puppy in the loft.  “I’ll make sure Bob is in the kennel before the kennel master arrives.  If the hounds are barking at him again, he’ll remove him and deliver him to you.”

“Thank you.”  Astrid smiled.  “Behave yourself, Bob!  Goodnight, uh…what’s your name?”

The boy grimaced.  “I better not say.  Not that I don’t trust you.  You brought me cheese after all.  Anyone who brings cheese is most trustworthy, but I’m not supposed to be talking to anyone, especially guests.”

“Oh…”  Astrid frowned, looking away.  “I will you call you then…”  She looked him in the eyes.  His irises were golden brown.  “Sunny!  Because your eyes look like the sun!”

“Then don’t tell me your name because your Moony- wait that didn’t come out right.”

“Keep your head up, okay?” Astrid advised as her eyes studied the young strawberry blond boy in front of her.  “Stand up for yourself and others.  No one deserves to live in a loft, no matter if they are the arlessa or a beggar on the street.  My Nan tells a story that’s moral ending state to respect everyone.  If you or someone else is being bullied, stand up and defend them please.”

“I-I…I will.”

Astrid giggled, turning away.  “Bye, Sunny!”

“Bye, Moon…”

 

* * *

 

_You kept your promise.  You kept Bob MacBarkson warm and safe from the other hounds until the kennel master delivered him in the courtyard that next morning.  I found your note of thanks and safe travels on his collar.  My father kept telling me there was nothing to worry about after all.  I could not tell them you rescued him during the storm, especially since I heard the arlessa complain the cheese knife was missing.  I hope they never punished you._

_I never forgot my Sun.  I never forgot his golden eyes, babbling and twisted phrasing, and destitute state.  Every time I took a bite of cheddar cheese, I smirked, wondering whatever happened to him.  Did he ever leave that loft?  Did he stand up for himself finally?_

_I nearly poured rivers of tears, realizing it was you.  We were sitting on the Redcliffe docks, eating bread and cheddar cheese watching the sun rise over Lake Calenhad.  We just won that long night battle against the undead pouring out of the castle.  Everyone but that damn arsehole bartender survived the incursion.  MacBarkson nearly pushed us into the lake when he dove in for a swim.  It was how you laughed, so carefree and happy.  The pieces fell into place.  The Maker can be heartless, Alistair, but He led me back to you.  I am surprised I did not kiss you right there, but I do not think you remembered me.  So, I kept the realization to myself, beaming for the first time since my family was murdered.  You showed me that even in all that chaos and darkness, some sun rays of happiness can still shine through the clouds._

_…And that is why you heard me finally raise my voice and snap at Isolde just a bell later.  She sneered her nose at you, disgusted that the bastard returned.  I almost cut her head off.  I was one second away to sacrificing her to save Connor because the Orlesian whiner deserved no sympathy!  It was your sunny eyes, gentle voice, and kind nature towards her that made me go to Kinloch Hold._

_I still enjoy reminding her every day that her stable boy is the King of Ferelden._

 

The moonlight shifted away from the journal pages when Alistair returned back to the present.  The pain in his chest now only ached a little.  His lonesomeness also subsided.  Astrid did not feel so far away anymore because she never had been that distant.

Alistair remembered the snowy moon girl too.  He remembered her words to stick up for those being bullied when Evie’s sister kept yelling for her to act like a lady instead of going hunting.  That is why he threw the horse manure, determined to keep his promise to his cheese goddess.  How could he face the little girl if he did not defend his childhood playmate? 

However, it did not bring the greatness the Satinalia moon believed it would.  Arlessa Isolde demanded Eamon to send him away.  Alistair believed he would never see the girl and her puppy ever again when Eamon left him at the Chantry.  The experience forced him to retreat inward and never defend himself again.  Yet, during every Satinalia, he would light a candle in the templar Chantry for his goddess, wishing her happiness and good health on her birthday.

Yet, the young girl and her mabari did find Alistair years later on the eve of a great battle.  The Grey Warden found himself looking at everyone’s eyes, holding just a bit of hope.  He wondered if he would see those silver grey moons staring back at him.  When that recruit called for her mabari and finally faced him, he nearly fell over.  He knew it was her.  He never doubted, but she acted oblivious.  He forgot her name because he did not know her as Asta or Astrid or Asty.  She was the Satinalia moon with her puppy, Bob.

Neither warden admitted they remembered that night during the snowstorm until they fell in love and laid together the first time, admitting he was in love with her was stating the sky was blue or cheddar cheese was delicious.  Alistair believed his heart left with her that next morning when her family’s ship left port.

“…cheddar sounds good right now…”  Alistair sighed, pulling himself off the sofa.

The king grabbed his tunic out of his pack, deciding against putting on shoes.  He was royalty in his childhood home.  If anyone said anything this late at night, he would just ignore them or take Astrid’s advice and defend himself.

Alistair unlocked his door and started down the guest wing hall towards the servant stairs.  After so many years and sneaking around, he could walk Redcliffe Castle blindfolded and walking backwards.  He still struggled in his Denerim castle, still testing himself.

" _Alistair, you did that before.  You never got feeling back in that toe…”_

“Fine…” The king muttered to himself, scowling.  He turned the corner and froze, immediately glancing at the wall scones to check if he was in shadow.

Alistair did not need to get closer.  He knew who he was watching.  As much as his fellow Fereldan attempted to smooth his hair, the blond curls would always be his defining feature.  The person hugged him closely around the neck in front of the tall tower window.  Their blessed mark pulsed a bright green glow, sparking every so often.  Her head was cradled into his neck like a perfectly placed puzzle piece.  Her arms kept tugging him closer, while she leaned off the window ledge.

_"Alistair, turn around immediately.”_

“But cheddar, Asty.” The king mumbled other his breath.

_"MacBarkson sleeps with us for now on.”_

Alistair pivoted on his right foot, shaking his head repeatedly.  If he spent the whole Blight fighting that mabari for the bedroll, Maker’s breath he was not giving up his large royal bed!  Even with all that space, Alistair will never get near his wife again.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I am obsessed with eyes. I always have been. For example, my husband has the most GORGEOUS emerald/jade eyes. Melts. So, love at first sight equals falling in love with their eyes, which I did with Cullen and Alistair. That just meant their significant others had to have amazing eyes too. :p


End file.
